


The Bigger They Come

by JeffandMarty



Category: Randall and Hopkirk (Deceased) (1969)
Genre: Gen, Murder Mystery, uhhh just a fic im working on!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-11 12:44:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12935550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeffandMarty/pseuds/JeffandMarty
Summary: Randall and Hopkirk receive a request for a murder case - from the ghost of the victim himself.





	The Bigger They Come

Rain spiralled down, careening endlessly from the clouds above until the drops collided and shattered against a sodden coffin, sitting in the thick mud. There was a mass of people standing amongst the gravestones, huddled underneath umbrellas - a black-clothed colony, the beads of water glinting off their shoulders like shiny beetles. A singular dot of white stood amongst the crowd, punctuating the wandering, inky sentence of coats and jackets. His suit seemed a brilliant white in the murky darkness. There was an unearthly glow about him, something shimmering in his pristine clothes, untouched by rain or mud. No-one looked at him.  
The man next to him flicked a damp strand of hair from in front of his eye and slumped his shoulders.

“For the record, I didn’t exactly agree to this you know,” He mumbled, risking a quick glance at his watch. “It seems silly to do all this for nothing.”

The man in white, arms crossed, gave him a discerning look. “It’s not for nothing – its out of courtesy. I’d have wanted someone to do the same for me. You solved my murder, didn’t you Jeff?”

“I guess.” Jeff’s lips drew tight, pausing, but he wasn’t going to give up that easily. “But this is different, Marty, I mean we didn’t even know the guy! And how am I supposed to get any income from a ghost? If I took up every person that came to me with a sob story I’d be out of the job.”

“We’re practically out of the job as we are.” Marty jibed.

Jeff rolled his eyes. “And it’s no thanks to you, Mr. Hopkirk.”

“Anyway, we’re already here; we may as well investigate a bit, don’t you think?” Marty said.

The vicar had finished his speech, and the coffin was beginning to be lowered into the ground. People around were sobbing, their tears lost to the rain. Jeff sniffed and rubbed his nose with a stray hand, the other in his pocket.

“So what exactly did this ghost say to you?” Jeff asked.

Marty wandered forward, dodging around some of the mourners to get a better look at the ceremony.

“He said that he was killed, and that he needed our help to bring the murderer to justice.”

“Didn’t he give any details? I mean, he was the one who was murdered by the guy – shouldn’t he know who killed him?” said Jeff, exasperated. A woman turned and gave him a strange look from the front of the group, her face half obscured by a veil. Jeff quickly looked to the ground and lowered his voice. “Didn’t you ask anything about it?” he hissed, as the ghost returned to his side.

“Listen, I only talked to him for a few minutes! He told me that he’d been pushed off a ledge from behind and that he wanted us to investigate who did it. He suspected the killer was someone he knew. By the time I started asking questions, he’d already vanished.”

Jeff ran a hand through his slick hair. “Well, how on earth are we supposed to get anything from that. It could have been anyone here!”

He gestured to the gathering crowd. Marty knew he was right. There were 30, 40 people here at least, and any one of them could have had malicious intentions. They knew nothing about the victim other than he was pushed off the top of a building. It was hopeless.

Marty drew his brows together in a look of determination. “Well, we’re detectives, Jeff – so lets detect!”


End file.
